


I'm ready

by creativwritingmind



Series: Three [13]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: based on cancer, cried at this, went to a dark place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8607730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativwritingmind/pseuds/creativwritingmind





	

"I'm scared." he breathes against the glas in front of them, the cold transparent border, parting them from the outside world, from the pulsing life down in the streets and the flickering lights up in the sky.  
"I know. I'm too." is the reply, and the words condense on the window just like his own had done a second before. 

Tyler shivers. It's not the cold that gets to him, but the feeling of life running out of his body slowly, with every breath he takes, every beat his tired heart is doing. He wants to scream, but his voice is overstrained from all the yelling he alread did. He wants to cry, but there are no tears left, no outlet for the pain in his soul. 

He hates and loves the way Josh pulls him closer, holding his already gone body up so he can take a last look at the outside world, the one that kept on living while he slowly died every day more. There haven't been much people around till the end, mostly because Tyler told them to leave, fucking leave, because he couldn't stand to let them see how he fades away. Even Jenna had to retread the day before, when they all felt that it was coming to an end. 

The only thing why he is still here, still breathing harsh sobs, is that he can't bring himself to say goodby to his best friend, to the person who's mind is united with his. It's Joshs arms that keep him there, his breath in his neck, he's the thin lifeline that his entire being holds on to. "I don't want to..." "I know." Josh has already realised that Tyler can't do it on his own. He can't let go of life without his help. 

Not minding the tears that run down his face the drummer lifts his friend up, and carry him back to the bed, where all the tubes and machines had been removed in the morning, there is no hope to legitimate their presence anymore. He gently places Tyler on the sheets, tugs him in, although he knows there is no way to stop the coldness running in the youngers veins. 

Slowly he lowers himself on the bed too, makes sure to slide his arms around Tyler again, to bring them as close as physically possible, as they can never be as close with their bodys like their minds have become. His voice is loosing the battle against his sobs as he finally speaks the words that let Tyler set out on his journey, the last one in this life. 

"You can go now. I'm ready." he whispers to the beautiful mind, the gorgeous soul he doesn't want to loose but has to set free so all the pain, all the suffering finally ends. Josh closes his eyes and tries to savour every stroke of the beautiful music consisting of Tylers muffeld gasps until they get lower and lower to the point they stop so easily, as if it was just right when it is so wrong.

Josh doesn't let go then. He doesn't let go when the night ends and the sun comes up. He doesn't let go when the nurses come in to check up on them. He doesn't moove an inch as the family is coming in to say their last goodby to a empty shell that once were their beloved son, sibling, husband. And they all understand. 

It is Jenna, who hulls him off the yet stiff body in the evening and if it wasn't for her he might have stayed with Tyler all the way down to the six feet under they will have to burry him in a few days. Her beautiful blue eyes have lost their sparkle and Josh knows it will never return again. Being as defeated as she is, as broken inside, he pulls her close and hugs her, trying to find a way to repair them, but has to accept that there is none. 

There's nothing to get over. There's nothing to be healed by time. Tyler is dead, and it's all there is.


End file.
